bella
by distrahere
Summary: A collection of Bella Jordan one-shots that I didn't put into the original storyline. Feel free to request, comment, read/review. All chapters are based on my OC from the "A Doctor's Life" series. It's not compulsory to read these if you want to read the main fanfiction. As always, CONTENT WARNING
1. 1

**Notes** _These are basically a collection of oneshot/drabbles that I have written in collection to the "A Doctor's Life" series but not included, either because I hadn't written them at the time, I didn't think they were relevant, or I thought they were too dark or depressing. **These stories come with a content warning.** Some of them will be triggering with explicit references to self-harm, sexual and physical abuse, prostitution, suicide, mental illness and makes light of activities such as alcohol or drug taking. Please be safe when reading them and know that I do not endorse any of these __activities. _

_I hope you have as much fun reading these as I have writing them. _

* * *

Adam and Bella discussing Nick... I love Adam and Bella's friendship, I just never really developed it properly in the main thread, something which I regret, so here's a bit for you.

**One Shot, Tequila Shots**

* * *

The shots were lined up along the bar. 8. That was four each. Bella wasn't so completely drunk that she couldn't do simple maths. Bella raised the first glass and Adam did the same. "Chin Chin?"

"Isn't that supposed to be for tonic or whatever?"

Adam frowned, "Champagne?"

Bella nodded, "That's the one." She down the glass with only a slight crumple of the nose. "Again?"

"Slow down Bella, I can't keep up." Adam downed his shot with a wink. "I've got a shift tomorrow."

"Me too, are you going to leave me to it?"

Adam looked warily across the bar, Bella had been watched by at least three men since they had entered the club. He wasn't going to leave her. "I'll stay." They both took their next shot together. Adam made a face. "Mm."

Bella grinned and grabbed Adam in a spontaneous hug. She spun around, singing loudly in a voice that cut across the music in club, which happened to be another song from a completely different genre. "CAN YOU FEEEL IT?"

Adam stepped back to avoid flailing arms and an over affectionate Bella, "Maybe you've had enough."

Bella took her next shot. "One can never have enough." She screwed up her face. "Never."

Adam smiled. "I'm only thinking about your headache tomorrow and Mr Jordan's look of disapproval."

"Nick, shmick."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Nick? Since when have you been calling our illustrious leader by his forename? I thought you will still cut up about the whole father thing. "

Bella made a face, "He's not so bad really. We've been out for a few drinks, a few meals, he's really quite a nice guy and he's sorry. And he cares about this department just as much as you do, if you'd give him the chance." Bella smiled at the look on Adam's face. "I'll give it some time then."

Adam shrugged. "Maybe he'll surprise me."

"He is my father."

"Luke, I am your father." Adam laughed at his own joke.

"The Darth Vader impression was pretty good, but I'm being serious."

"Serious, Bella, you are drunk. I am drunk. The hopes of use having a serious conversation are minimal."

"I am not drunk, you are just a lightweight." She finished off the shots.

"Then why did the barman take your keys after your last drink?"

"Cause he assumes that I have the same alcohol capacity as you." Bella leant forward, speaking deliberately to avoid a slur, "8 more shots please?" She turned to Adam, "That's if you're still game." The barman raised an eyebrow. The pair of doctors had consumed more alcohol than everyone else in the club together, but he didn't hesitate to take Bella's offered £20 note.

Adam rolled his eyes, if he was going to have a hangover, it might as well be an impressive one. "One more round of shots Bella, but only one."


	2. 2

**No Flowers Please**

Bella goes to visit her abusive Uncle's gravestone. Deals with self-harm and child abuse, please stay safe.

* * *

Bella wasn't quite sure why she was doing this. Reasons spun around her head in a way that was nearly manic, on a knife edge between sanity and hell again, but Bella wouldn't have it any other way. Closure, curiosity, fear, comfort, attachment, revenge, duty, nostalgia. The buzz words of a psychiatrist. Bella could imagine his face when she told him where she had been. Bella frowned. She knew why she was here, she was a glutton for self-punishment.

She looked up, checking that her motorbike was still propped up against the tree where she had left it. It was still visible over the rows of headstones and memory trees. Bella was in a graveyard, and she was looking for one specific name. She hadn't bought flowers, what was the point? They would only wilt and rot away. It was not like she wanted to honour his memory, and it's not like he would have appreciated the sentiment, even when he was alive. He had been a harsh man, given to mind games and the torment of a frightened girl. Every accident, every slip in his temper was carefully executed. Even he struggled towards the end to keep the secret, people were becoming suspicious, her secondary school teacher had questioned every black eye that he had clumsily given her, forgetting that it would be visible for days to come. And the scars, the boiling water, the lashing of the belt, the cigarette buts, all of which Bella tried desperately to hide. And then came the self-inflicted wounds, pain providing a numbing escape that she failed to understand, but even then she craved it. Bella blinked as the memories washed over her. Even now she could feel the pain and all of it's consequences. The scars were her constant reminder, both physical and mental. She wondered, as she did often, why she chose to work in an emergency department. A place where the reminders of abuse and injury were much too frequent. Perhaps it was the expectation, the consistency that prevented the incidence of a young teenager with white lines across her arms, or a child covered with bruises too often and too regular to be accidents, that prevented the onslaught of memories that accompanied those cases from being a cold sharp shock. Or perhaps, in some sick and dark way, the fact that she was not alone comforted her. Bella hoped that wasn't the case. No, it was the feeling that she could do something to help others who were in that situation, if somehow her "insider knowledge" of the cycle of abuse could prevent it from happening. For another life to be saved, that was why she endured the mental attack from her past every day and every night.

She found the gravestone in the shade of a tree, Bella wasn't sure what type and honestly it did not matter. She had read the funeral announcement in a paper. _No flowers please, but donations gladly accepted to Cancer Research UK. _Was that his choice? He was never a charitable man, perhaps he had gone soft in his old age. The name, _Jerry Marc Hardy _and the inscription _gone but never forgotten_ seemed ironically fitting for Bella's situation. She wondered who took the time to chose it, or if the stone mason, in some misguided sympathy for a lonely old man, chose it for himself. The headstone was simple, small and untended. And in Bella's mind, that was all her uncle deserved. She felt no feelings of closure, comfort or attachment to the site or even the body preserved below. She left feeling no different than when she had come, no more or less curious, no sense of duty or desire for revenge. The psychiatrist couldn't be right every time.


	3. 3

Okay, a bit of Bella and Zoe, just after Dr Strong makes his proposal.

* * *

**It's not you it's him.**

* * *

Zoe was sat in the doctor's office, head in her hands, the flowers discarded on the floor. Bella wandered in and picked the flowers up began to arrange them in a vase. She waited for as long as her patience would allow before speaking. "Why the long face darling?"

Zoe ignored her. Bella was the last person she wanted to talk to. Everything about Bella reminded Zoe of Nick. The resemblance was something she hadn't really noticed before, but then she'd never looked for it. Her exact expression as she looked up from the glass of flowers was one that she had seen on Nick's face before. There was nearly no physical resemblance between the pair, Zoe had heard Nick say that Bella had all of her mother's looks and her temper to boot. But Bella had all of Nick's mannerisms, his determination, his- Oh, Bella's presence in the room wasn't making her choice any easier.

"They're nice flowers."

Zoe ignored her again.

"It's a nice ring too. Expensive."

Zoe still ignored her.

"I don't get it, you've just received a marriage proposal from a reasonably decently handsome man but you're in a grump over it."

Zoe smiled. "Reasonable decently handsome? You have such an odd way of putting things."

"And she's back. I mean he is an othopod, but still, there's no need to stress over it. Yes or no. Simple really?" Bella perched herself on the desk and Zoe frowned. "It's not always black and white Bella-" At her friends mildly confused face she amended what she had just said. "Okay, it might be for you, but I don't know what to do." Bella, although she was one of Zoe's closest friends and gave good, honest advice, she did have a habit of seeing things too simply. Black and white thinking. As a diagnostician, that was often useful because she saw things as obvious that other people would struggle to comprehend. Bella frowned, "I get it, you don't want to hurt his feelings? Or you don't want to give up your freedom as a single woman? He's a nice guy, but just not exciting enough for you-" And then Bella got it. "You don't- This is about Nick, isn't it?"

"Bella-"

"I don't want to be harsh, but waiting around for my father to turn into a decent man is going to leave you dying a lonely woman."

"He's your father-"

"And I love him for it, but he is a self-obsessed egomaniac at the best of times."

"We we're going to get married. Once."

"And he's moved on."

"Leave it Bella."

"Sorry Zoe. I can't make this decision for you. But if you want a maid of honor or a vodka and coke, I'll be there." And she turned and left, leaving her friend to ponder her options.


	4. 4

Not so much a one shot, but a ramble.

**The Reason Why**

This is Bella/Nick, after Bella had taken the accidental overdose and Nick had just had his tumour operation. **WARNING** This chapter deals strongly with suicide and even offers reasons why someone would want to kill themselves. If you are in anyway vulnerable, I urge you not to read this chapter. Instead call 08457 90 90 90 (UK Samaritans) or a similar helpline. Please.

This is told more from Nick's perspective than Bella's, which is one of the reasons I did not include it in the main storyline. If it get's a bit rambling and confusing then I'm sorry, but I was trying to portray Nick's thoughts after brain surgery, not something that I've ever experienced, but in the episode he seemed quite incoherent. I rewrote most of it, Nick is one of my favourite characters in Casualty and I love Nick/Zoe :') but hey, don't let me start a rant at the casualty producers, they do an amazing job and I guess that they can't give everyone a happy ending...

* * *

Nick was sat in an intensive care side room, next to his daughter. She was unconscious, her face covered in tubes, but still beautiful. In fact, seeing her sleeping there, under the influence of artificial sedation, was one of the only times he had ever seen Bella at peace. Her hair was loose from it's usual plat, but still wavy and without a tangle. Her face was free from the lined, half concentrated, half fearful expression that almost permanently occupied it. But even though it was nice to see her looking peaceful, it wasn't right. The expression was devoid of any of the usual light that shone from it. That was what attracted people towards Bella, what made people trust her. Her mouth was never too far from a smile, never too far away from a quick remark. That was Bella all over, she could outlive God trying to have the last word. **She would have left a note. **

_And then as clear as day, her voice came out of nowhere. He could see her face, serious for once. They had been discussing a patient who had attempted suicide. Overdose. Bella had just been talking to the family. His wife and four children, all under the age of ten. Her voice had been tinged with nostalgia, she rarely linked patients situations to her own, but this was one moment that she had. "It's easy to look at them-" She was referring to the patients family, anxiously crowded around the bedside, "-and think, how could he be so selfish? They say suicide doesn't take away the pain, it just passes it on to others. But when you're in that situation, you don't think about other people, the desire to die is so single-mindedly overwhelming, the pain of living so numbing, that other peoples feelings, or indeed any other feelings, doesn't come into account. You can't remember what it felt like to feel love, you convince yourself that it's just a dream, happiness was a dream, hope was a dream, you feel like a burden. And then it's not you who is being selfish, it's them, they're selfish for wanting you to stay. Wanting you to bear the pain for their sakes." Bella frowned. Nick waited, not wanting to interrupt Bella's flow of thoughts, it was important to talk about things. She bit her lip. "I wouldn't do it again. Never. Because even though what you are thinking then feels real, it's false. The feeling of emptiness is just another trick your mind is playing on you. Once you've realised that, you can't go back. You have to live-" And then she smiled. And it was there that Nick's memory failed him. He had hit a blank wall. He was sure she had said more, something funny to make light of the situation, something to amuse him. She had been going to say-_

Nick frowned in frustration. Was that a memory? Or had he just imagined it? He was recovering from brain surgery, but his own thoughts, albeit confused and tangled, were far from his own safety. His daughter, with all her bravado and putting-on-a-brave-face had supposedly attempted suicide. Nick had trouble with this image, his daughter waiting by the canal side, waiting for the drugs to take effect, waiting for the end. **Because Bella wouldn't want to finish it like that**, she was the type to go out with a bang, the center of attention as always. She would be amusing, there would be a twist, something designed to make him smile at the end of it. That was his main problem, Bella wasn't someone to decide to do something on a whim, she would consider things carefully before making a plan, that was the nature of her condition. Sure, she was able to make quick decisions, but they were always the right ones. And he had seen the admittance notes. Only enough Lithium Carbonate in her system for three tablets, although her blood alcohol was impressively high, that was Bella. Her diet of caffeine, lithium carbonate, anti-depressants and mood stabilisers, topped off with enough alcohol to service a pub, sleeping pills and then some coffee again had never been healthy, but it had always been her way. If Bella was going to kill herself, **she would have done it properly**. She would have finished it, it would have been absolute. In his head, Nick struggled to make sense of it. The Bella he knew wouldn't kill herself, especially **not with the Lithium Carbonate pills**, she hated the things. But then, **maybe she had been desperate** and they were all she had. He had left her. In his selfishness he had decided to do what he thought was right for him, and what he assumed would be right for everyone else, the cowards option, walking away from his problems. **But she had called 999**. If she truly wanting to die, then why would she call an ambulance, someone to find her body? But then she would have made sure, no, she had definitely changed her mind, or not wanted to kill herself at all. Then again, who was he to judge whether his daughter would have committed suicide or not? He hadn't been around enough to know what she was truly like, inside under the layers and layers of self-protection, barriers she put up automatically to protect what lay inside her fragile mind, how could he know how she thought, how could anyone try to guess? Bella was unique, and that was for sure. He was just naively comforting himself, hoping that she didn't mean to do it in order to move the blame away from himself. Adam blamed him. His stony face as they had met in the corridor had proved that. And Adam was right, the fact that his daughter was lying in front of him under sedation, was down to him on many different levels.** He had left her**, more than once. First, before she was even born, before he had even seen her face. The selfishness of a teenager, not that he had ever grown out of it, leaving behind the country he had always hated to pursue a new life in England, at medical school. He thought briefly of his parents, he hadn't talked to them in- were they even aware of Bella's existence? And then Maria, the beautiful woman, so fragile- and he had never guessed the reason why. Or had he? Nick's memories were blurred an confused as a result of the brain surgery, especially from that far back. He could vaguely picture the face of Jerry Hardy, the man who had bought **irreversible damage** to Bella, and as he assumed, to her mother too. The sudden burst of rage that spread through him almost surprised him, good thing that Jerry Hardy was dead, more rage could be directed at himself. If he hadn't left them, or if he had taken Maria with him... All the things that could have been. He had the image of the young Bella in his mind, she had given him a photo album once...

_A slight girl, short brown hair and a smile that was instantly recognizable as her. He could picture one now, an image of her on the beach, hair slightly wavy in the salty air, a battered bucket an spade. She was moving now, running towards where the camera was, "Daddy, come make sandcastles."_

_The image had been replaced, the same girl- Isabella – was leaning over a birthday cake, five candles. He remembered the picture, a care home, Drake's Care Home, but this wasn't a care home. It was a house. His apartment to be precise. His coffee machine in the corner, his radio, his table, his daughter-_

_Her first day at primary school, smile beaming but her eyes showing mixture of nervous excitement and worry..._

_First day at secondary school, being taken to the school gates by her dad was definitely not cool..._

_Getting her A level results, long hair escaping it's plait, smile wider than __ever. But this was a different Bella, it wasn't his Bella, the eyes weren't haunted by memories that he didn't know, they were filled with the dreams and hopes of a normal teenage girl, she wasn't going to join the __army to help pay for her university fees, she was joining because it was something she wanted to do, she wasn't becoming a doctor because of some distant memory of her mother telling her about her father, she was doing it because she wanted to make her father proud. The father who had stood by her side through the first boyfriend, the first breakup, getting suspended for slapping that bitch, experimenting with drugs, that guy who was definitely too old for her, those friends who definitely weren't good for her, staying up late to fit in that last bit of revision for that chemistry exam. _

_The possibility hurt him as much as seeing her lying before him, seeing her sleeping. Even if he had taken Maria with him, he would have always been to busy, to selfish, to withdrawn to care for his daughter, there would have always been that emergency, that late night operation, a whole series of disappointments and let-downs and- _

Nick's eyes slowly shut, he was getting confused. He shouldn't even be here, he was on strict instructions from his consultant to remain bed-bound, but even in the post operative haze Nick Jordan still had his charm, and the nurse had not-so-reluctantly agreed to take him the short walk to see his daughter. Nick's face creased with regret and sorrow. _**Oh Bella... **_


	5. 5

**Gutter Girl**

* * *

Not sure why I didn't publish this in the main storyline, I just found it on my phone when I was looking for something else.

Also, I'm debating making this an M because quite a lot of the stuff I've got lined up isn't exactly suitable for young persons, I mean, I was reading and doing worse when I was 13 but that doesn't mean that you were. But then again, making something an M isn't going to stop you reading it if you really want to. Just a heads up, if you suddenly can't find it, I'll have probably made it M. You just need to change the search parameter's to find it. xxoxo

* * *

"Hey Bella, do you want to come out for a drink tonight, we were going to meet up with some of the nurses upstairs." Kirsty smiled hopefully, "Come on, Nita's at a mate's house- this may be my only opportunity all year."

Bella struggled to keep a neutral face, she'd spent the day cleaning up after drunk people and the idea of getting wasted didn't really appeal to her.  
Zoe added. "I can't remember the last time you came out for a drink."  
Bella smiled. "That's because you get so drunk that you can't remember who you went out with."  
Zoe pretended to be offended. "And you're always completely sober when we call for a taxi."  
Zoe did have a point though, she hadn't been out in ages. Actually she couldn't remember a night recently where she hadn't been running or working _or doing something with Dylan_. And what harm could a couple of drinks do? She nodded. "Okay, okay. I think I've probably got something to wear."  
Zoe grinned. "And when you are completely drunk, you can tell me all about you and Dylan."  
Bella shook her head firmly. "No."

.

.

Bella wasn't sure what she was doing on Canal side. She had originally told the taxi driver to take to her house, but driving past the canal had given her an impulsive urge to yell stop. So she did. She had staggered her way out of a taxi and over to the waterside. She stared at her reflection in the water. She looked like a mess. Her make-up was smudged, her hair was a mess, she had bags under her eyes and it was past 4 in the morning. This was why she didn't go for drinks any more. It was never just a few drinks. She would be reluctant to call herself an addict, she found it easy to abstain from alcohol consumption, she just didn't have any limits, one drink, two, three, five, twelve- what did it matter? She could vaguely recall the night/morning before. Shots, tonic, rum and a bottle of red, more vodka and then some whiskey to finish off the night. The taste of cheap Jack Daniels was still bitter in her mouth. Several attempts by guys to take advantage. Bella was tempted each time, but it wasn't their hands that she wanted, their mouths tasted different, so each time, she politely, but firmly refused. She'd never felt like that before. In fact, previously she would have been out of the club and in a taxi with them before she could even say Dylan Keogh. Not that she would want to say that. Most of the time they were too drunk to even look at her, not like- _Jeez, get a grip on yourself woman, he's just a bloke, right?_Lots of dancing, more alcohol. Bella shivered and began to walk along the canal using iron railings as support. She got about half way before her legs gave out from underneath her. She vomited. Eurgh. Bella was usually able to keep her drink. She was probably dehydrated. Or some twat had spiked her drink. Her head was banging. Bella made one last attempt to stand up, before blacking out.

.

.

Something cold and wet was nudging nudging her face. And then something warm covering her. A jacket. She could smell vomit and god knows what else. "Bella goddamit what have you been doing? Bella? Can you hear me?" Bella groaned. Cold hands touched her neck, wrist and pulled at her eyelids. She could feel warm breath, it smelt slightly of coffee, slightly of mint. "Bella, it's me. Can you hear me?" She knew that voice. Dylan. A warm hand squeezed hers. "Squeeze my hand Bella."

Bella opened her eyes. "Jeez, I'm hardly comatosed. Leave me alone."

Two firm hands pulled her up. Bella blinked. It was still dark but Dylan had a torch. "What time is it?"

"5:30. You're meant to be on shift on an hour." His tone was cold and disapproving, but Bella hoped there was some underlying concern about her state of welfare. She looked around. Canal. Bench. Iron railing. Vomit. Oh. She made a face. "I seriously thought I had grown out of getting pissed and waking up by the canal. I least I didn't jump or accidentally overdose again, that would have really pissed Nick off, hey-" And then Bella's mind caught up with itself, she focus on Dylan who was giving her a strange look. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm walking a dog. You are obviously-"

"Oh shut up Dylan. We're not all perfect." She had a headache and was still feeling nauseous. Her mind was racing, she couldn't remember why she was here or why she should be nice.

"I never suggested-"

"Don't give me that." Bella was shaking and her eyes were wild. "Y-you-you-"

Dylan caught her hand. "Have you taken anything?"

"Oh that's brilliant Dylan. Bella in a gutter and somehow she's back on the smack. I haven't touched the drugs since my 16th birthday." Bella was confused. "Why are you asking me this? What is- How to maybe and then how again, maybe-" Bella started backing up towards the wall.

Something in Dylan's mind clicked. "When was the last time you took your meds?"

Bella's eyes flashed. "What, you can't deal with me unless I'm all drugged up?"

"Isabella-"

Bella practically howled. "Don't call me that- I'm Bella. Bella. This is the real me. Mood swings, agitation, paranoia, obsessive compulsive behavior, manic depression. You deserve better than this. I've- I belong in this gutter. You- you're funny, clever, brilliant- I'm poison and I don't deserve this. Please, just piss off before you end up getting hurt by my major self-destruct button. I told you not to find me, and wait, a week later you show up and remind me how much- just really Dylan, piss off." Bella handed Dylan his jacket back and marched off in what she hoped was the direction of her house. But then she couldn't be sure.

"Bella? You're miles from-"

Dervla whined. He looked at his dog. "Should I go after her?"

Dervla coughed and Dylan sighed, at least Bella hadn't got too far. He broke into a jog. "Bella, wait. Isabella-"

.

.

Half an hour later and Bella was asleep on her sofa in the recovery position wrapped up in a blanket Dylan had found in the cupboard under the stairs and Dylan was on his way to the E.D to cover her shift.


	6. 6

I don't know, do I even need an excuse any more. Wrote this on a bus home from school, found the quote on tumblr, I think it's from a song... just a small one

* * *

**you hope your life changes, even if the act of letting is terrifying... so terrifying**

* * *

_little miss, do your best_

_little miss, never rest_

_little miss, hide your scars_

_who you are is so much more than what you talk about_

_hold on it'll be alright_

_little miss, brand new start_

Bella had her A level result certificates in one hand, and a battered old holdall in another. Her eyes were wide and untrustworthy. Every person on the train seemed to be about to mug her of the roll of twenty pound notes that she had stored in her bra, every face a client or a bruiser, ready to snatch her back into her past. Every voice, every movement was orchestrated by him. Her pimp. She had been under his control for so long that freedom and the responsibility of looking after herself was as frightening as giving up and going back to the den. But they were so proud of her, the girls who had hidden her absence as she attended night classes, lied for her, risked receiving a beating for her, given their money, given what precious little they had, so that she could make something for herself. Because they thought she was better than them, she hadn't succumbed to the temptation of an endless cycle of heroin, she was clever, she avoided trouble. And she had left them. They were wrong, they were much better than her, she was a coward, running away from her problems, hiding in the shadows, pressed up against the wall of the train because she hadn't been brave enough to take a seat, she needed to be close to a door, just in case. Later she would learn to call this paranoia, but for now, this was all that Bella had ever known.


	7. 7

**The Anonymous Drinker **

Drinks after the shift with Bella and the gang back in the good old days of series 22. Contains themes of alcohol, sex, drugs and whatever.

* * *

She could always knock back the drinks faster than anyone else, even back when it was heroin instead of anti-psychotics that was her drug of choice. Two, four, six? And that was when Charlie's disproving look left her from across the table. He didn't think that mixing drink with drugs, followed by coffee and a double shift, was a good idea. It wasn't, but that was part of the attraction. Self punishment, or self destruct? Eight, ten, twelve? And Zoe and Adam were making their excuses, separately. Was Jess with them, she couldn't see? Kesley left with a bloke at thirteen and Bella couldn't remember Toby leaving. Even Abs left her once she'd lost count past fourteen, or was it fifteen? He had work in the morning and he could see that Bella wasn't going to be finished any time soon. The barman had her keys yet again, they were nearly on first name terms. And then the guy sat next to her. She'd been rebuffing the advances of men all night, even drunk she knew which ones were the creeps. Too greasy, too slick, too talkative, too keen, too bedraggled, too drunk or not drunk enough. But this one seemed okay, nice enough for a guy who tries to hit on a drunk girl in whatever rubbishy club that Zoe had found them. Bella struggled to remember his name, even though it had only just passed from his lips. Martin, Matthew, Mark, Mohammed? Not Mohammed, maybe Micheal? She smiled anyway, trying not to slur her words, "Grab your coat mate, you've pulled." And he laughed like she was the most hilarious person in the world. She knew what she was doing, she always knew. It was always a harsh reminder of the times when she didn't have a choice, and she didn't have the numbing of alcohol to sweeten the experience. Perhaps that was why she kept doing it, self-punishment or self-destruct? Or maybe it was just the only thing that she knew how to do.

She wondered if he'd notice the scars, or if he, like many before would be two drunk or two consumed in the moment to notice that fact that the girl they had picked up in a nondescript bar wasn't quite whole. She wondered if he would be one of the ones who asked or one of the ones who would get up and leave? She wondered if she'd had enough drink so that when she woke up in the morning she wouldn't be sure what kind of guy he had been, or whether he had even been there at all... That was the best kind of night for Bella.


	8. 8

**A Soldier She is**

* * *

"Hey kid, how you doing?"

Isabella stood to attention. "Fine sir."

"At ease lieutenant. Seriously, how are you doing?"

"I'm fine sir."

Mardsen looked at his lieutenant. He had always had a soft spot for the young doctor, perhaps more than that, she hadn't been played a great card in her life, not that she talked about it much. Mardsen definitely felt an attachment to the soldier standing before him, "I've served with you long enough to know when you're upset, what is it?" He smiled as a frown spread across her face. He shrugged, "You don't have to talk about it."

"That's good, because I don't want to."

Mardsen smiled, "You forgot the sir."

Bella blinked, "Sir, sorry, sir." And then she laughed, "Very funny."

"I think the joke was yours, unintentional or not."

Bella was still smiling, "And now you're making fun of me."

"It worked though, didn't it." Mardsen watched as Isabella's smile faded. He was worried about her, not enough to consider speaking to their superiors, but enough to keep a closer eye on her.

Her shoulders dropped with a wistful smile, completely different to the one of amusement that had lit up her face only moments before, "Not for long Captain, not for long."

"Chin up Kid, we're nearly on the other side."

"That's the thing though. I can do this-" She gestured to the barren landscape, "Not exactly everyone else's idea of comfort, but it works for me. Back at home, even back at base, there's nothing there for me."

"That's why we're here kid... all of us, no family, no friends who aren't dead or already over here and no desire to change that situation. We're the ones who don't have anything to lose."

Bella looked around the camp, and he was right, none of the soldiers around her had any attachment to the outside world. She possibly least of all of them. She had no family, her mother had killed herself when she was five, her uncle had abused her and she had never known her father. She had no friends outside of the unit, the army was the only place that she felt at home. She trusted her comrades in arms with her life on a daily basis, and they entrusted their well-being in hers, and with that kind of bond a form of friendship was inevitable. But outside of a life threatening situation she felt too uncomfortable and too uneasy to be around people let along communicate with them. Just a simple trip to the shopping centre would leave her anxious and unable to sleep until she had performed an endless round of rituals. Back home she would swing from periods where she slept for weeks, completely unable to leave her bed to periods where she was constantly awake. Being in the army changed that, it helped her to deny what she knew was wrong with her. Because she could be normal here. She could be safe. Ironic really, considering they were behind enemy lines and in the middle of a war zone. She blinked, bringing herself out of her revere She looked back at Mardsen, the Captian who had trusted her and turned her into the soldier she was today. He could have had any officer from the Royal Medical Corp, but he chose her. And she wasn't quite sure what she would have done if he hadn't. "Do you want me to check the western pass again, sir?"

Mardsen shook his head, "You've done enough work today. Get some sleep. Send Spike and Jacobs to do it for me, I'm going to change the watch."

Bella nodded firmly, stood to attention before heading back towards the tent where she was sure she would find Spike and Jacobs in the midst of a card game. "Kit up Boys, Captain wants you to check the western pass?"


	9. 9

**Nobody Knows**

I've never done a 'songfic' before, but for me this has always been Bella's song. It's just the chorus, maybe one day I'll finish it. The song is by P!nk, it's one of her earlier songs and something that I grew up listening to.

* * *

_Nobody knows_

Sat at on the floor, in the doctor's office. She really didn't want to lose that patient. She had had that look, seen to many nights under the stars to care about the romance of it, been in too many stranger's bed's to know the meaning of love or trust and stuck to many needles in her arm to remember why she started. Oh, Bella knew that look far to well._  
_

_Nobody knows but me that I sometimes cry_

She felt the tears fall, bloody hormones, Bella had a reputation for having seen everything, never been shocked and always being able to put her emotions aside when it was needed. Sure, she loses her temper every so often, maybe even let's a patient get inside her head, but if a decision has to be made, Bella could put up a wall and get on with it. _  
_

_If I could pretend that I'm asleep when my tears start to fall_

It would get to her in her sleep though. Nightmares, waking mid-scream, mid-howl, mid-jump, every face, every single one she failed to save would visit her at some point, joining the rest of the ghost from her past. _  
_

_I peek out from behind these walls I think nobody knows_

But these walls, they're the only thing that she has ever known. Ever since she can remember they've been there, for when her mother cries herself to sleep, for when she has the dream about the blood, for Uncle Jerry, for Darren and every man she was ever paid to sleep with, for every person who shot her and every person she shot, every person she couldn't save and some that she could, every person in that mental hospital, every scream, it was for them._  
_

_Nobody knows _

They see the shadows under her eyes, but they don't know why.

_Nobody likes_

No one could know her and like her. Nobody could see her now and look at her in the same way again. That's what she had told herself, ever since that care worker had picked up the girl from a pool of her mother's blood and said the word's that would haunt the little girl forever, "Don't cry, no one likes a crybaby, you've got to be brave now." Because that's the message she took away from it. Her mother cried, and now her mother was gone. And she couldn't cry. She had to be be brave now. _  
_

_Nobody likes to lose their inner voice_

That was it, she had spent so long behind her walls that she had forgotten who she was, who she had been, she had forgotten the normal response to everything, forgotten how to care, how to love. Instead, she had the self-critical alter-ego, the devil on her shoulder, the darkness to every light. Without the pills to guide her personality, to shape it and protect it, she was nothing, she was no one, just a bundle of fragile emotions ready to explode. _  
_

_The one I used to hear before my life made a choice_

She never had a choice, her life was placed out in front of her, the decisions only had one option, there was only ever one way out and to be wrong would mean death._  
_

_But I think nobody knows_

How could anyone ever understand how she felt, how could anyone ever want to know what she had seen? How could she even begin to explain?_  
_

_Nobody knows_

But he does. He's seen the tears and he's still there.


	10. 10

**Checkmate **fluff fluff fluff forgive me

* * *

"What are you doing?" Bella had entered the kitchen to find Dylan staring into space with concentration lined across his face. She recognised the look, "Oh wait, don't tell me, mental chess. You can't be that bored already? It's only 12 hours till we're back on shift."

Dylan blinked, "But it's been twelve hours already."

"Unemployent Bylaw number 17, Wyvern Council-"

Dylan looked up, giving Bella his warning look, "Bella."

Bella sighed, stopping herself from continuing, "I'm bored too. Look, I even made cookies. I don't even like cookies."

Dylan picked one off the tray and took a bite. "I do. These are good." His face became one of concentration again, obviously trying a complex manoeuvre against himself. Bella laughed.

Dylan frowned, "What."

"It's just so you. A game of chess. In your head. Against yourself." She shook her head, "I could never concentrate for long enough to get past the first move."

Dylan paused, "Play me then."

Bella shook her head, "I haven't played chess in a long time."

"Worried that you'll lose? Because you will."

Bella smiled, "I was taught chess by a master."

"I am a master."

Bella's initial laughter turned to a frown that lingered on her face for the moments that it took her to make her decision. She spoke softly, "I'll get the board."

Dylan followed her as she stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room. He had never seen a chess board in Bella's house, and her house was so empty of ornaments and photos and clutter that he felt sure he would have noticed it if it was on display. Bella pulled out one of the four black A4 file boxes that were piled up on the bookcase. In fact the bookcase was the only item of Bella's house that indicated that there was a person living in the house at all. The row of CDs, a selection of punk, grunge and alternative rock occupied the first shelf, and then on the second shelf a row of medical journals, textbooks and dictionaries. The spines were worn and the pages curled, in contrast to the books that occupied the next shelf. They were mainly classics, Dickens, Hardy, the Bronte Sisters, Tolstey, Austen, the complete works of William Shaksphere and then a bible. All looked untouched. There were several photos on the shelf, one of Bella and Nick, two of Bella, Zoe and two other people that Dylan didn't recognise, a picture of Bella, Adam and Charlie looking far too formal and lastly an old looking picture of a woman that Dylan had always assumed to be Bella's mother just by the similarity in the face structure and the eyes, but had never asked. And then on the bottom shelf was the four boxes, again Dylan had never asked and had always wondered what was contained in them, but assumed it was paperwork of some kind. Bella opened the box, placing the lid next to her on the floor. And in the box was a folded chess set and board, an army patch, a shoelace and a collection of military unit photos. When Bella pulled the chess board out and handed it to him Dylan half expected to find a gun. Instead there was a green beret, a twist of electronic material and single photograph of an older man ruffling Bella's hair. Bella answered the question that had formed in Dylan's mind before he even had a chance to consider asking it. "Captain Mardsen." And then she shut the box, "Where did you want to play?"

Dylan sensed that there was more to that box, and indeed the chess set that Bella had just scooped out into his hands, but he also knew that Bella would not appreciate questions. She would rarely volunteer information about her past, but then neither did he. It was an arrangement that suited them and one that was never questioned. He took the board into the kitchen and began to set out the pieces. The set was complete, if not a little chipped. "White or black?"

Bella placed the white queen down, "I always go first."

"Fine." He looked at her across the board. She had lost the far away look in her eyes and it had been replaced by one of intense competitiveness. "Go on then."

Bella picked up the middle pawn and deliberately placed it two squares forward. "I hope you're not a sore loser."

Dylan raised an eyebrow, "Queen's Gambit?"

"You'll see."

.

They were about halfway through the game, Dylan had just place his bishop down when Bella let out a shout of glee. "You walked right into that one." She moved her castle in line with his king. "Checkmate."

Dylan looked at the board. "No." He had been sure that Bella was just rearranging her game-plan, he hadn't seen anything that looked remotely threatening. And then he saw it. The place where he had just moved his bishop gave way for her castle, and then her queen and then a knight that he had honestly not noticed to move on his king and the spaces around it.

Bella was grinning, "Okay then, try and move your king out of that one."

Dylan knew he had lost. He scowled, and then knocked his king over. She had read his game plan like a book, not that he expected any less. Bella only had to take one look at him to know what was on his mind, why would chess be any different? Her unique ability to understand what people wanted before they even knew it themselves, a culmination of years of quietly observing people and modelling her own actions upon them in order to appear normal. He took one look at her triumphant grin, he didn't need to be a gifted reader of minds to know that Bella wasn't going to forget this one in a while.


	11. 11

**Sisterhood**

* * *

Bella and Zoe, drunk and discussing Dylan. The idea mildly amused me, but I don't know, they say that it's sad to laugh at your own jokes. Oh, and if you're a under 18 or even if you aren't, **don't drink** because alcohol is bad for you in the long run, okay? _(that felt so hypocritical)_

* * *

Bella re-filled her glass for the fourth time. "Like, in a way, he's perfect for me. Okay, we're like chalk and what's it- we're like chalk and cheese. Because he's this intellectual, well-bought up and public school boy whatever, but he's still a child inside, he doesn't know how to take care of himself. Me, I might have spun through life in a non conventional way, half in a gutter, half in a warzone, you know, Bella the carcrash, Bella the abused, junkie, ex-prostitute with the drink issues and the whole mental bipolar, obsessive, manic thing going on, but I'm more of an adult that him. And it's nice to feel superior to him in at least one way. But even though we're different, we're kind of the same too. You get me?"

"Right..." A drunken Bella was difficult to understand at the best of times, she seemed to slip into some kind of teenage, blathering ramble without any coherent beginning or end, difficult to understand when you're already half pissed yourself.

"And he doesn't have to make small talk, or ask how I'm feeling 90 times a day, he doesn't need to know where I am every second of the day, he doesn't like to talk, and I don't like to talk. There's no bullshit, he's just there. He's like a rock- hey – solid as a rock ah- ah."

"Bella please don't sing." Zoe took the glass of wine from Bella, which didn't deter her friend who just took Zoe's and filled it up.

"Swapsie's, whatsies. We just laugh and joke and then we argue and then we make up but it doesn't matter because it feels right. It's not weird or awkward or uncomfortable." Bella stopped and placed the wine glass down. "I think I love him. You know when you see someone and you're like okay, he's just a guy. And then you get to know them, and it's just their face every time. And then they're beautiful." Bella looked up, with comprehension, "I do love him."

Zoe smiled, although Bella had just compared herself to an adult, and in most ways she was more grown up than Zoe would ever be, she was a complete amateur when it came to the topic of love, it was just something she'd never had the chance to experience. "I'm glad you're happy." As soon as Zoe had said the word happy, she realised that she'd made a mistake. Not that Bella would ever hold it against her, she'd just provided a catalyst for the 'Bella blues', a term that Adam had conjured up. If you mentioned the word happy to Bella she immediately began to criticise herself, she had this idea that was so intertwined into her existence that she did not deserve to be happy. She could be happy, as long as she did not realise it. An oddity, but one that was not surprising considering the years of abuse she had suffered. Bella frowned. "Happy. That's the problem Zoe, he's just too good for me. I don't deserve him. If I really loved him, I would leave him, before my self-destruct cloud caused him any harm. He's safe-"

"Does he not get a choice in this?"

"He's not aware of everything, he doesn't know what I like. He doesn't know what I've done-"

"So tell him. If he stays then-" Bella's sudden mood swing had sobered Zoe up.

"I can't tell him. I can't do that. Not even when I'm pissed can I talk about everything. He- I- And it's not just what I've done, it's what I'll do, I do this to people, my -negative energy- destroys things. And I don't want that for him."

"You don't destroy things Bella, you- you don't know what effect you have on people. You smile, and the whole room lights up-"

"Bad things happen to me. And they happen to people around me."

"Bella, you work in an emergency department. Bad things happen. You can't blame everyone's problems on yourself."  
"Shall we do a little list? Nick. Brain Tumour. Adam, Jess. Harry dies, Jess leaves without a single word to me, because she knew it was all my fault-" Zoe started to interrupt, but Bella kept going. "Polly. Dead. In fact you are the only person I haven't- but then maybe if it wasn't for me then you and Jordan might have managed it- or that goddamn awful Dr Strong- What were you thinking?"

Grateful for a subject change Zoe laughed. "I wasn't."

"I mean, an othropod. And he was a prize twit to top it off. Do you remember how he proposed to you?"

"Yes Bella, rather too vividly."

"Those flowers, right in the middle of an emergency department. How-"

"Yes thank you Bella."

Bella had fallen silent, mid sentence. "Many regrets Zo? You and me, drunk again. When will we learn?"

"Never." Zoe giggled. "But that's part of the fun, right?"

Bella joined her laughing, and soon the pair were in hysterics, Bella's morbid description of her effect on the world soon forgotten. Later, it would trouble Zoe, make her wonder how deep the wounds of the past really were in Bella's psyche. It was an incredible series of unfortunate events, almost heart breaking, one girl, one life, gone before it had even had a chance to become fulfilled.

**review even if you hate it, trust me I would LOVE to know**


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